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Another Shangwe

Grey skies yawn through window panes, Each dawn a copy of yesterday’s stains. Coffee cools beside unread books, Time drips slow in shadowed nooks. No purpose calls, no spark, no flame, Each hour arrives, each hour the same. The future waits behind a foggy screen, A silent ghost, not heard or seen. Sleep comes late and leaves too soon, Restless thoughts beneath the moon. Dreams dissolve with morning light, Another day, another fight. Yet somewhere deep, beneath the haze, A whisper breathes through weary days— “You are still here, you still remain, Even stillness can't be vain.”
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No self-doubt

Two folks frown when you walk by,
You shrink your soul and wonder why.
But let me share a little gig—
The world still spins, and so does the pig.

Hated hard by ancient decree,
Yet rolling ‘round so happily.
Snouts in mud, no self-doubt game,
Still growing strong, still living flame.

So if a couple throw you shade,
Don’t let your joy begin to fade.
Their hate can’t shrink what you are about—
Keep strutting proud, no room for doubt.

For love or loathe, just wear your crown,
You are here to rise, not break down.
If pigs can thrive despite the flak,
You sure can too—so bounce right back!

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